((Kate Black, continued from Somewhere in the Between.))
Rocks crunched underfoot as the girls moved through the desolate environment. Any signs of habitability had long since vanished as they wandered. Lost, although neither would really admit it. They just kept moving, hoping they'd eventually come to grass, water, some sign of life.
Kate's feet stung, her throat was dry and hoarse- she'd long since exhausted her water supply, and wasn't going to mooch off of any Taryn had left- her eyes were heavy from a lack of sleep, and her stomach felt like it was eating itself, but she kept going. Kate was sure they didn't have long left. The obnoxious girl on the announcements had told them as much. They'd get to the end and then...
They'd find a way. There had to be some way to get both her and Taryn out. They'd just refuse to hurt each other. Get declared joint champions. But... Would Taryn agree to that? In the end, could she really trust her when it came down to the wire? Kate shook her head. She couldn't think things like that. Keep positive.
"T-Taryn...?" She struggled for breath, but continued to trudge along. "A...Are you okay?"
Still, she continued on, clutching at her water bottle, hoping that the last remaining drops would magically refill it or that it'd somehow lead them to somewhere they could actually get some water or some more food or something.
Oh God. Was that...? Kate rushed over, kneeling down beside it. She reached for a cold arm, letting it fall limp to the floor. Just left there, naked and splattered in his own blood. Who could have done this? Ashley? The latino the obnoxious bitch had mentioned?
Of all the things she'd seen so far, this was the one that made her sick. Bile and what little she had left in her gut spewed out onto the dry ground as Kate fell to her hands and knees.
"...Urgh..." Kate winced and slowly rose to her feet. "U-uh, Taryn.."
"Let's..." She put a hand to her forehead, rubbing her temple. Headache coming on. "C-can we keep moving, please?"
Miseria Cantare
The Beginning (cool kids ask before joining)
Miseria Cantare
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Carrion Queen
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((Taryn Jones continued from Somewhere in the Between))
Taryn let out a deep breath. She definitely wasn’t used to this much walking. She didn’t like to exercise particularly. Her mind was abuzz while her body wore down. She couldn’t stop thinking. This place was a mistake, the whole island. Everything was a mistake. She had killed a girl. The announcements also said a boy died from blood loss. Was that the one she shot? It could have been, but maybe it wasn’t. At this point she only knew with certainty that she’d never know with certainty if it was or wasn’t.
I killed a girl. I….did it because I had to….but I still did it. I’m not a bad person. I’m good. I am. This place just made things….messed up. Things got messed up and it’s not my fault.
It was a wonder Kate hadn’t left her after that, but the girl stayed. She stayed and they kept going together, wandering to no where in particular and waiting for the end.
Taryn was starting to question if she even wanted to keep going. She looked over at Kate. She couldn’t give up, Taryn had to make it home. She had to see her mother at least one more time. They were so close to the end. The end practically tingled in her finger tips; she could almost reach out to it. But what of Kate….? Maybe they could bargain at the end. Make a deal. Trade something.
Up ahead there was something on the ground. Kate ran to it and Tarn trotted after her. It was the body of a boy. Taryn covered her mouth and looked away. Kate was less lucky and lost what little her stomach had in it. Taryn pulled back her hair with one hand and with the other rubbed the girl’s back.
“Shhh, it’s okay.”
It was just the automatic response she had to such a situation. Be it when Kendra had gotten that food poisoning from the school bake sale and she had to spend all night up with her or when Jayna had come home beyond drunk once and she had to take care of her without waking their parents.
Taryn reached into her bag. She had half a bottle of water left. She gave it to Kate. She needed to replace the water she’d just lost.
“Of course, hun. We can’t do anything for him now. Let’s keep moving.”
Taryn let out a deep breath. She definitely wasn’t used to this much walking. She didn’t like to exercise particularly. Her mind was abuzz while her body wore down. She couldn’t stop thinking. This place was a mistake, the whole island. Everything was a mistake. She had killed a girl. The announcements also said a boy died from blood loss. Was that the one she shot? It could have been, but maybe it wasn’t. At this point she only knew with certainty that she’d never know with certainty if it was or wasn’t.
I killed a girl. I….did it because I had to….but I still did it. I’m not a bad person. I’m good. I am. This place just made things….messed up. Things got messed up and it’s not my fault.
It was a wonder Kate hadn’t left her after that, but the girl stayed. She stayed and they kept going together, wandering to no where in particular and waiting for the end.
Taryn was starting to question if she even wanted to keep going. She looked over at Kate. She couldn’t give up, Taryn had to make it home. She had to see her mother at least one more time. They were so close to the end. The end practically tingled in her finger tips; she could almost reach out to it. But what of Kate….? Maybe they could bargain at the end. Make a deal. Trade something.
Up ahead there was something on the ground. Kate ran to it and Tarn trotted after her. It was the body of a boy. Taryn covered her mouth and looked away. Kate was less lucky and lost what little her stomach had in it. Taryn pulled back her hair with one hand and with the other rubbed the girl’s back.
“Shhh, it’s okay.”
It was just the automatic response she had to such a situation. Be it when Kendra had gotten that food poisoning from the school bake sale and she had to spend all night up with her or when Jayna had come home beyond drunk once and she had to take care of her without waking their parents.
Taryn reached into her bag. She had half a bottle of water left. She gave it to Kate. She needed to replace the water she’d just lost.
“Of course, hun. We can’t do anything for him now. Let’s keep moving.”
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MurderWeasel
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((Samantha Reynolds continued from Wanna Change My Clothes, My Hair, My Face))
Samantha had made her way entirely around the island, for lack of anything better to do. She was keeping an eye out for trouble, an ear out for gunfire, but the place was eerily calm. Not many of them left, not anymore. Funny what a couple days could do.
She had reworked her armament. She didn't want to be caught unprepared, so she held one gun, her original one, in her hand. Pippi's gun was tucked into her skirt, along with the two knives. The other two guns and knives rested within her bag, shoved into the bottom, under the first aid supplies, water, and bread. It was quite a load, but Samantha was used to carting around textbooks. This wasn't so very different.
She was starting to feel lonely, oddly enough. It had been some time since she'd seen anyone. The sun had come up again. No sign of the pink-haired girl. No sign of the boy with the electricity. At some point, Samantha had put band aids on her thighs, had washed and wrapped her palms. It wasn't like the damage was bad, far from it, in fact. Minor burns, the sort of thing that stung but did not even blister. Hardly even worth acknowledging as pain, not after everything else she had dealt with.
The longer she went without seeing others, the less in control of herself Samantha felt. It would be easy, so easy, to revert to all her previous coping mechanisms, to use pain to conquer the boredom and paranoia. She wouldn't, though. Nothing that edged her state of mind back towards what it had been before could be tolerated. She owed it to Otis, but more than that, she owed it to herself. There was no point living someone else's life, no point existing as a monster instead of a human.
She felt like she was already halfway to earning the title of monster on appearance alone. Her blouse, once white and pristine, now sported small tears on the back, from sticks in the forest, as well as bloodstains, sweat stains, and dirt stains. Her skirt had two impromptu knife sheaths ripped into it, and only looked better than her top because of its darker color. Her hair was unbrushed, and somewhat matted.
To top it all off, she still had fucking sand in her socks.
But that didn't matter. There'd be plenty of time to get cleaned up after this was done. Plenty of time to live the rest of her life in as calm and boring a manner as possible.
And if there wasn't?
Then it didn't matter if she died dirty.
On she walked, on and on, until, finally, off in the distance, she caught sight of a couple of figures moving. Samantha picked up her pace, headed towards them. Luckily, before too long, they stopped. Unluckily, as Samantha got closer, the reason became apparent. The stench of blood and rot wafted towards her on the breeze, death's decay making its presence known. The smell was worse than anything at the beach, worse than anything in the forest. Worse because she couldn't put a face to it, couldn't imagine the dead person smiling, couldn't add in anything to redeem them in her eyes. They were just dead. Over. A rotting hunk of meat.
Time to call out. No point spooking these girls. No point being too close and getting killed if it turned out they were dangerous. At least she could see that neither of them had pink hair.
"Hey," she called out. Gun in hand, but not raised, not yet, not this time. "Over here. My name's Samantha. Chat for a second?"
Might've been a good move to suggest ditching the corpse. There sure were more pleasant places for a potential standoff.
Samantha had made her way entirely around the island, for lack of anything better to do. She was keeping an eye out for trouble, an ear out for gunfire, but the place was eerily calm. Not many of them left, not anymore. Funny what a couple days could do.
She had reworked her armament. She didn't want to be caught unprepared, so she held one gun, her original one, in her hand. Pippi's gun was tucked into her skirt, along with the two knives. The other two guns and knives rested within her bag, shoved into the bottom, under the first aid supplies, water, and bread. It was quite a load, but Samantha was used to carting around textbooks. This wasn't so very different.
She was starting to feel lonely, oddly enough. It had been some time since she'd seen anyone. The sun had come up again. No sign of the pink-haired girl. No sign of the boy with the electricity. At some point, Samantha had put band aids on her thighs, had washed and wrapped her palms. It wasn't like the damage was bad, far from it, in fact. Minor burns, the sort of thing that stung but did not even blister. Hardly even worth acknowledging as pain, not after everything else she had dealt with.
The longer she went without seeing others, the less in control of herself Samantha felt. It would be easy, so easy, to revert to all her previous coping mechanisms, to use pain to conquer the boredom and paranoia. She wouldn't, though. Nothing that edged her state of mind back towards what it had been before could be tolerated. She owed it to Otis, but more than that, she owed it to herself. There was no point living someone else's life, no point existing as a monster instead of a human.
She felt like she was already halfway to earning the title of monster on appearance alone. Her blouse, once white and pristine, now sported small tears on the back, from sticks in the forest, as well as bloodstains, sweat stains, and dirt stains. Her skirt had two impromptu knife sheaths ripped into it, and only looked better than her top because of its darker color. Her hair was unbrushed, and somewhat matted.
To top it all off, she still had fucking sand in her socks.
But that didn't matter. There'd be plenty of time to get cleaned up after this was done. Plenty of time to live the rest of her life in as calm and boring a manner as possible.
And if there wasn't?
Then it didn't matter if she died dirty.
On she walked, on and on, until, finally, off in the distance, she caught sight of a couple of figures moving. Samantha picked up her pace, headed towards them. Luckily, before too long, they stopped. Unluckily, as Samantha got closer, the reason became apparent. The stench of blood and rot wafted towards her on the breeze, death's decay making its presence known. The smell was worse than anything at the beach, worse than anything in the forest. Worse because she couldn't put a face to it, couldn't imagine the dead person smiling, couldn't add in anything to redeem them in her eyes. They were just dead. Over. A rotting hunk of meat.
Time to call out. No point spooking these girls. No point being too close and getting killed if it turned out they were dangerous. At least she could see that neither of them had pink hair.
"Hey," she called out. Gun in hand, but not raised, not yet, not this time. "Over here. My name's Samantha. Chat for a second?"
Might've been a good move to suggest ditching the corpse. There sure were more pleasant places for a potential standoff.
Kate tried to refuse it- she didn’t want to waste Taryn’s supplies- but Taryn pushed it into her hands. She… no, she had to take it. Kate unscrewed the cap and gulped down the contents of the bottle, the coldness of the water chilling through her stomach.
“I… Thanks, Taryn…” Kate screwed the lid back on the empty bottle, shoving it into her bag. Just in case they ever found some drinkable water. “…R-really. Thanks.”
A girl's voice, calling them over. Away from the corpse.
"Taryn?" Kate looked over at the girl, then back at Taryn. She hadn't attacked them yet, so that was something, right? Acting on impulse, Kate decided. "Lets go over there."
She stuffed the water bottle into her bag and began to approach the girl, letting her arms fall loose at her sides. They weren’t threats- they weren’t trying to be anyway- so there was no point to acting like they were. The girl was talking to them, wasn't stumbling around looking demented as all hell, and wasn't pointing a gun yet or holding one of them hostage; she could be a complete bitch after that for all Kate cared, she'd still like her more than everyone else they'd met so far.
Still, she hoped the girl- she had introduced herself as Samantha- would be what passed for normal on this island. Maybe she'd spent the whole time hiding, avoiding Ashley, the Latino they'd heard about, and every other two-bit murderer who’d popped up. Or maybe she'd seen worse than they had, and was just looking for someone to talk to, a shoulder to cry on. Or maybe she was the reason there was a rotting naked corpse nearby. Kate decided it was a gamble worth taking.
"H-Hey!" Kate decided to do the introductions this time, Taryn introducing them hadn't exactly worked out before. "I'm, um, Kate and this is Taryn. We’re, uh… we’re, well, we're kinda lost. What did you want?"
“I… Thanks, Taryn…” Kate screwed the lid back on the empty bottle, shoving it into her bag. Just in case they ever found some drinkable water. “…R-really. Thanks.”
A girl's voice, calling them over. Away from the corpse.
"Taryn?" Kate looked over at the girl, then back at Taryn. She hadn't attacked them yet, so that was something, right? Acting on impulse, Kate decided. "Lets go over there."
She stuffed the water bottle into her bag and began to approach the girl, letting her arms fall loose at her sides. They weren’t threats- they weren’t trying to be anyway- so there was no point to acting like they were. The girl was talking to them, wasn't stumbling around looking demented as all hell, and wasn't pointing a gun yet or holding one of them hostage; she could be a complete bitch after that for all Kate cared, she'd still like her more than everyone else they'd met so far.
Still, she hoped the girl- she had introduced herself as Samantha- would be what passed for normal on this island. Maybe she'd spent the whole time hiding, avoiding Ashley, the Latino they'd heard about, and every other two-bit murderer who’d popped up. Or maybe she'd seen worse than they had, and was just looking for someone to talk to, a shoulder to cry on. Or maybe she was the reason there was a rotting naked corpse nearby. Kate decided it was a gamble worth taking.
"H-Hey!" Kate decided to do the introductions this time, Taryn introducing them hadn't exactly worked out before. "I'm, um, Kate and this is Taryn. We’re, uh… we’re, well, we're kinda lost. What did you want?"
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Carrion Queen
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Taryn wiped her forehead and took a deep breath. Looking around, there wasn’t much. It was pretty much an empty, barren location. She wished they could find the beach again. Kate had finished up the last of the water. That was fine. You could survive up to three days without water. If they ever made it out of this wasteland, maybe they could find more.
“It’s no problem, Kate. Really.”
The girls were about to put distance between them and the corpse when a girl’s voice called out to them. The girl looked like she has seen some better days. Then again, Taryn wasn’t one to talk. Her white blouse was splattered with the blood of that girl. Of the girl she had killed. Kate looked closest to a civilized human being so she let her go ahead and do the introductions once they had gotten a bit closer.
She’s doing better at talking to strangers ,she thought with a strange sort of pride. If Taryn could, she would have given Kate a puffy, yellow star sticker.
This new girl had a gun, several knives and blood down her front. She looked like a blonde Rambo. To her credit, the gun wasn’t pointed at them and she loudly called for their attention. Still, Taryn’s hand crept up to rest on the gun stashed in the waist of her shorts. She gave a tired sigh and tried her best to smile.
“Sure, I think we’ve got a second we can spare to talk.”
“It’s no problem, Kate. Really.”
The girls were about to put distance between them and the corpse when a girl’s voice called out to them. The girl looked like she has seen some better days. Then again, Taryn wasn’t one to talk. Her white blouse was splattered with the blood of that girl. Of the girl she had killed. Kate looked closest to a civilized human being so she let her go ahead and do the introductions once they had gotten a bit closer.
She’s doing better at talking to strangers ,she thought with a strange sort of pride. If Taryn could, she would have given Kate a puffy, yellow star sticker.
This new girl had a gun, several knives and blood down her front. She looked like a blonde Rambo. To her credit, the gun wasn’t pointed at them and she loudly called for their attention. Still, Taryn’s hand crept up to rest on the gun stashed in the waist of her shorts. She gave a tired sigh and tried her best to smile.
“Sure, I think we’ve got a second we can spare to talk.”
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MurderWeasel
- Posts: 3511
- Joined: Mon Aug 06, 2018 9:56 am
- Team Affiliation: Jewel's Leviathans
The girls decided to play nice. No standoffs, at least, not the really nasty sort. Not yet. Judging from their movements and conversation, they seemed to be working together. It wasn't a winning strategy. This put Samantha at ease rather quickly. If they were going to risk a betrayal, well, maybe they'd make other bad moves, like letting her live. Like being friendly for a little. Like not turning this into any more of a war zone than it was.
She breathed a sigh of relief. Then, it was time to talk.
"Thanks. I... well, if you're lost, I can help, but there's not really any place better than here. I just... I guess it's just nice to see someone who's not going to shoot me. Everyone I've met's dead, except this pink-haired bitch who shot at me and this disheveled kid I shot at."
That probably was not the most endearing of introductions. But dammit all, Samantha was tired, was in a kind of shaky mood and mental state, and was really going to do her best to be nice, to be someone who could deserve to survive, someone Otis could have—no, did—care for. That, she realized, was why these girls gave her a good impression. They were like she and Otis had been, a day ago (or two?). Strangers, thrown together, finding it in one another to trust each other, to look past any faults. Maybe she was projecting too much. Maybe she was making stupid assumptions. She really didn't give a fuck, though.
"I haven't killed anyone. I've tried twice. Once was in self defense, once was a huge mistake. I've got more bread and water than I could consume in our time left here, so you're welcome to some if you want. I just... need some time. Some time with people who aren't trying to kill me, for a change. I guess I'm proposing a little truce."
Blunt. Tactless. Honest. Samantha didn't have the energy to be anything more. At the start of the game, she'd have kept her guard up. If these were guys, things would have been different. But they were just people like her, battered and beaten and lost and confused, and she couldn't imagine any of them hurting each other. Not yet, at least. Slowly, carefully, Samantha laid her gun on the ground, and sat down.
The gun stashed in her skirt stayed where it was, though. Even on the best of days, trust only went so far.
She breathed a sigh of relief. Then, it was time to talk.
"Thanks. I... well, if you're lost, I can help, but there's not really any place better than here. I just... I guess it's just nice to see someone who's not going to shoot me. Everyone I've met's dead, except this pink-haired bitch who shot at me and this disheveled kid I shot at."
That probably was not the most endearing of introductions. But dammit all, Samantha was tired, was in a kind of shaky mood and mental state, and was really going to do her best to be nice, to be someone who could deserve to survive, someone Otis could have—no, did—care for. That, she realized, was why these girls gave her a good impression. They were like she and Otis had been, a day ago (or two?). Strangers, thrown together, finding it in one another to trust each other, to look past any faults. Maybe she was projecting too much. Maybe she was making stupid assumptions. She really didn't give a fuck, though.
"I haven't killed anyone. I've tried twice. Once was in self defense, once was a huge mistake. I've got more bread and water than I could consume in our time left here, so you're welcome to some if you want. I just... need some time. Some time with people who aren't trying to kill me, for a change. I guess I'm proposing a little truce."
Blunt. Tactless. Honest. Samantha didn't have the energy to be anything more. At the start of the game, she'd have kept her guard up. If these were guys, things would have been different. But they were just people like her, battered and beaten and lost and confused, and she couldn't imagine any of them hurting each other. Not yet, at least. Slowly, carefully, Samantha laid her gun on the ground, and sat down.
The gun stashed in her skirt stayed where it was, though. Even on the best of days, trust only went so far.
Kate blinked. Sam’s story was actually kind of interesting. Everyone she'd met had died. Wow. That... that took some doing. It really did. Aside from some "Pink Haired Bitch"- Ashley? – And another kid. Kate sighed. If they were meeting people who had literally had everyone they’d met die in front of them, they had to be nearing the end. Not long left now. They’d make it to the end.
Samantha hadn't killed people, at least. That gave her something over them, though. Sam hadn’t killed. Kate and Taryn, on the other hand? They'd robbed, they'd fought, they'd shot a boy and left him to die... and Taryn had killed at least one person. It was in self-defense, sure, and they still weren’t sure whatever happened to the blind boy, and even then Kate was sure she hadn't meant to, but still. Samantha had done better off than them, in Kate’s eyes.
Samantha proposed a truce, offering to help them out with food and water in exchange for their company and not trying to kill her. The offer of food and water was enough for Kate, but she wasn’t sure Taryn would be sold. After all, there was still the possibility it was a set up.
"...a truce?" Kate looked to Taryn, suprisingly she didn't seem to think it that bad an idea. "Alright, I- W-we, um, We accept, then."
"And, um," Something she'd forgotten to bring up earlier. "T-The,um, pink haired bitch? With the skanky feet? Her name, um, her name's Ashley."
Kate tilted her head up and pointed to the cut on her neck. It still stung, despite of- or possibly because of- the attention Kate was giving it. She didn’t think she could be blamed though, really. She was just making sure it didn’t happen again, was all.
"S-She, um, she gave me this." Kate ran her finger along the length of the scab. "So, uh, y-yeah. We know her. Definitely."
Samantha hadn't killed people, at least. That gave her something over them, though. Sam hadn’t killed. Kate and Taryn, on the other hand? They'd robbed, they'd fought, they'd shot a boy and left him to die... and Taryn had killed at least one person. It was in self-defense, sure, and they still weren’t sure whatever happened to the blind boy, and even then Kate was sure she hadn't meant to, but still. Samantha had done better off than them, in Kate’s eyes.
Samantha proposed a truce, offering to help them out with food and water in exchange for their company and not trying to kill her. The offer of food and water was enough for Kate, but she wasn’t sure Taryn would be sold. After all, there was still the possibility it was a set up.
"...a truce?" Kate looked to Taryn, suprisingly she didn't seem to think it that bad an idea. "Alright, I- W-we, um, We accept, then."
"And, um," Something she'd forgotten to bring up earlier. "T-The,um, pink haired bitch? With the skanky feet? Her name, um, her name's Ashley."
Kate tilted her head up and pointed to the cut on her neck. It still stung, despite of- or possibly because of- the attention Kate was giving it. She didn’t think she could be blamed though, really. She was just making sure it didn’t happen again, was all.
"S-She, um, she gave me this." Kate ran her finger along the length of the scab. "So, uh, y-yeah. We know her. Definitely."
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Carrion Queen
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Kate had accepted the terms of a truce for them. She was fine with that. Coming upon someone who seemed sensible was good enough for her and she wasn’t about to start up another fight just yet. She didn’t feel like she was any condition to go another round. The girl hadn’t killed anyone, which was a good sign. She did admit to trying twice though, maybe she was just bad at killing people. If that was the case, hanging around her might not be too bad an idea. Then again, third time is the charm.
Taryn’s legs folded easily underneath her and she sunk down next to the girl. Her name was……Samantha? Yes. Taryn rubbed her eyes briefly with the palms of her hands and sighed. She looked up at the blonde girl with half lidded eyes, tired, hungry and dehydrated.
“I killed a girl. And I shot a boy. Self defense, though.”
Was the girl really self defense? She was too tired to play it all back in her mind and figure it out. Self defense was just an easiest blanket statement to go with. It also sounded better.
Apparently this girl had had a run in with Ashlie as well. Kate took over as narrator and succinctly summed up their time together. Taryn closed her eyes and covered them with her hand.
“The next time I see that girl, I’ll kill her. I’ll kill her and I won’t feel bad about it. No one’s gonna miss her, I guarantee,” she said, eyes still covered while she spoke. Perhaps that wasn’t the best thing to say. Taryn was almost past the point of caring.
Taryn’s legs folded easily underneath her and she sunk down next to the girl. Her name was……Samantha? Yes. Taryn rubbed her eyes briefly with the palms of her hands and sighed. She looked up at the blonde girl with half lidded eyes, tired, hungry and dehydrated.
“I killed a girl. And I shot a boy. Self defense, though.”
Was the girl really self defense? She was too tired to play it all back in her mind and figure it out. Self defense was just an easiest blanket statement to go with. It also sounded better.
Apparently this girl had had a run in with Ashlie as well. Kate took over as narrator and succinctly summed up their time together. Taryn closed her eyes and covered them with her hand.
“The next time I see that girl, I’ll kill her. I’ll kill her and I won’t feel bad about it. No one’s gonna miss her, I guarantee,” she said, eyes still covered while she spoke. Perhaps that wasn’t the best thing to say. Taryn was almost past the point of caring.
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MurderWeasel
- Posts: 3511
- Joined: Mon Aug 06, 2018 9:56 am
- Team Affiliation: Jewel's Leviathans
The truce was accepted. Samantha tried not to let her relief show through. Tried not to let on just how glad she was to be able to live just a few minutes longer. She had her plan, but was starting to doubt it again. Starting to worry that maybe she was doing something wrong, maybe she was missing something. Sliding through to the finals with a group was all well and good, but would she have the guts for what came next? Would she be able, when the time came, to point her gun at Taryn and Kate, point it right between their eyes, and condemn them to oblivion? It had been so easy before. So easy to take aim and cut loose. So easy to say that the ends justified the means.
What terrified Samantha was that, on some level, she still felt that way. On some level, she was pretty sure she was just pretending, just faking her little change of heart. Just waiting, waiting for backs to turn. Waiting until she had a good shot, until she wouldn't miss. When it all came down to it, for all her certainty about life not being worth living if she lost herself, she still didn't want to die. More than anything, she wanted to live. Wanted to keep on existing. Wanted to survive to close her eyes and go to sleep again, to wake up again without fear for her life. If she felt that way, though, what must the others be thinking? What made her more likely to survive than any of them.
Intelligence.
The thought bubbled from the depths of her subconscious, teasing her ego. But it was true, wasn't it? Everyone she'd met so far had been doing things all wrong. Well, everyone except Otis. None of them had strategy. None of them had the right goals.
The other two kept talking. Turned out they'd met the pink-haired killer too. That, and Taryn had killed, at least once. Go figure. They were being honest. Maybe not wise, but honest. It was probably a good move, if they were using their real names. The announcements had included details on killers in the past. Whether Taryn was telling the truth about self defense, though, was certainly up for questioning. Samantha trusted these two to do what was right for each other. Anything beyond that would probably be too much.
Still, she found she had a request for Taryn. Maybe not something pleasant. Maybe something downright bloodthirsty. It hardly mattered, not now, not after all they had been through.
"When you take her, put a round in her for me, okay?"
Well, that was it. They'd both shared their nasty sides. Both bared their violent natures. Samantha found that she wasn't upset at all by the thought of Taryn shattering the girl—Ashlie, Kate had said she was called—Ashlie's skull with a bullet or ten. It was actually something of a relief. It meant Samantha wouldn't have to get her own hands dirty. Wouldn't have to kill someone herself. She didn't doubt that she could do it, not after what she'd attempted these past few days. She just wasn't sure she could live with herself afterwards.
An urge, powerful, nearly overwhelming: Samantha concentrated and her face did not shift.
How was she going to make it to the top like this? How was she going to fulfill Otis' dying wish if she couldn't live with herself after shedding a little blood? Why was she even thinking about that? His words had been kind. Caring. The sort of thing she'd always wished a guy would tell her. The sort of thing she'd never expected to hear. The sort of thing it was easy, so easy, to fixate upon, to use to justify all sorts of self-indulgent atrocities.
Live.
And what good would that be if she couldn't take what she'd done and killed herself?
This was not a very good moment. Not in the slightest. She didn't even know why. Probably her proximity with this pair. Probably the fact that they were how she and Otis should have been. Maybe the fact that, of the three of them, there was only room at the top for one. Only one.
She couldn't stay here too long. Couldn't travel with Taryn and Kate long term. If she did that, it would all be lost. All hope of forcing herself to kill would be gone.
Before she knew it, she was back to herself. Her old self. Her school self. The self she had always been when a boy got a little too close, when a slacker got a little too friendly. Walls of ice smashed between her and these girls, locking them safely at a distance, subjects of regard, not companionship.
"Do you have a plan for dealing with her? I watched her gun down a girl in cold blood, not an ounce of provocation. That was that scream earlier, if you heard it. I know it got everyone near her. She could talk into people's heads."
Valuable information for these girls. Things they would need in order to kill Ashlie. Things Samantha could afford to let on.
And then, she pushed things. She didn't know why, exactly. Maybe because she'd never resolved it herself, never come to terms with it when she was with Otis. It was probably the wrong thing to say. Nevertheless, it slipped out.
"So, what do you two plan to do at the end of this?"
What terrified Samantha was that, on some level, she still felt that way. On some level, she was pretty sure she was just pretending, just faking her little change of heart. Just waiting, waiting for backs to turn. Waiting until she had a good shot, until she wouldn't miss. When it all came down to it, for all her certainty about life not being worth living if she lost herself, she still didn't want to die. More than anything, she wanted to live. Wanted to keep on existing. Wanted to survive to close her eyes and go to sleep again, to wake up again without fear for her life. If she felt that way, though, what must the others be thinking? What made her more likely to survive than any of them.
Intelligence.
The thought bubbled from the depths of her subconscious, teasing her ego. But it was true, wasn't it? Everyone she'd met so far had been doing things all wrong. Well, everyone except Otis. None of them had strategy. None of them had the right goals.
The other two kept talking. Turned out they'd met the pink-haired killer too. That, and Taryn had killed, at least once. Go figure. They were being honest. Maybe not wise, but honest. It was probably a good move, if they were using their real names. The announcements had included details on killers in the past. Whether Taryn was telling the truth about self defense, though, was certainly up for questioning. Samantha trusted these two to do what was right for each other. Anything beyond that would probably be too much.
Still, she found she had a request for Taryn. Maybe not something pleasant. Maybe something downright bloodthirsty. It hardly mattered, not now, not after all they had been through.
"When you take her, put a round in her for me, okay?"
Well, that was it. They'd both shared their nasty sides. Both bared their violent natures. Samantha found that she wasn't upset at all by the thought of Taryn shattering the girl—Ashlie, Kate had said she was called—Ashlie's skull with a bullet or ten. It was actually something of a relief. It meant Samantha wouldn't have to get her own hands dirty. Wouldn't have to kill someone herself. She didn't doubt that she could do it, not after what she'd attempted these past few days. She just wasn't sure she could live with herself afterwards.
An urge, powerful, nearly overwhelming: Samantha concentrated and her face did not shift.
How was she going to make it to the top like this? How was she going to fulfill Otis' dying wish if she couldn't live with herself after shedding a little blood? Why was she even thinking about that? His words had been kind. Caring. The sort of thing she'd always wished a guy would tell her. The sort of thing she'd never expected to hear. The sort of thing it was easy, so easy, to fixate upon, to use to justify all sorts of self-indulgent atrocities.
Live.
And what good would that be if she couldn't take what she'd done and killed herself?
This was not a very good moment. Not in the slightest. She didn't even know why. Probably her proximity with this pair. Probably the fact that they were how she and Otis should have been. Maybe the fact that, of the three of them, there was only room at the top for one. Only one.
She couldn't stay here too long. Couldn't travel with Taryn and Kate long term. If she did that, it would all be lost. All hope of forcing herself to kill would be gone.
Before she knew it, she was back to herself. Her old self. Her school self. The self she had always been when a boy got a little too close, when a slacker got a little too friendly. Walls of ice smashed between her and these girls, locking them safely at a distance, subjects of regard, not companionship.
"Do you have a plan for dealing with her? I watched her gun down a girl in cold blood, not an ounce of provocation. That was that scream earlier, if you heard it. I know it got everyone near her. She could talk into people's heads."
Valuable information for these girls. Things they would need in order to kill Ashlie. Things Samantha could afford to let on.
And then, she pushed things. She didn't know why, exactly. Maybe because she'd never resolved it herself, never come to terms with it when she was with Otis. It was probably the wrong thing to say. Nevertheless, it slipped out.
"So, what do you two plan to do at the end of this?"
Taryn talked about killing Ashley, how she wouldn't feel bad about it, and how no one would miss her. Kate was a bit taken aback by that. Sure she was a bitch who could- and had- messed them up with her voice, and she'd tried to kill her, but... There had to be someone out there that would miss her, right? Someone who would take note when their daughter didn't come home, or that their best friend hadn't shown up to their birthday party. Just... someone, really.
Kate kept her mouth shut. No need to raise any objections.
Samantha had said that Ashley'd seemingly gunned down another girl since they'd seen her, and asked if they had any idea of what to do if they found her again, if they had a plan to take her down. Did they? Kate thought back to their confrontation. Taryn had made the bread earplugs, right? Kate remembered telling her to take them out.
"Well... T-Taryn made these like, bread earplugs, and, um, those seemed to work okay at shutting her voice out." Kate shook her head. "Although... I, uh, don't know how we're gonna go about getting rid of her..."
Leaving it to someone else seemed like the best course of action, if Kate was being honest. Then they wouldn't have to get hurt again. There had to be someone else out there she'd wronged. Samantha was proof of that. Maybe she'd take Ashley out when they parted ways.
There was a deeper reason for it than that, though. A feeling that sank into Kate's stomach, and made her feel the almost familiar nausea.
Guilt? Maybe.
But guilt for what? She hadn't personally done anything. Taryn had done it. In self-defence, and defending her. No, no beating around the bush. Kate was just as guilty as Taryn was. She was the one that stole the Boy's things after Taryn had shot him. She was the reason Ashley had gotten one over on them, She was the one who'd made the other boy panic, getting Taryn shot.
She'd made such a mess of things, hadn't she?
Kate blinked. Wasn't focused. She slouched down next to Taryn. Samantha had asked what their plans were when they got home. ...Odd question, really. But Kate figured she was trying to keep some semblance of normality going.
New York, for Christmas. That was their plan. They were still going, right? God, it seemed so... corny now she'd thought about it. Did they really want to tell her such a corny story? Kate glanced down at her shoes. "I... I wanna go home. See my parents and, um, my sister again. G-Graduate, y'know. That, um, that kinda stuff. "
Kate kept her mouth shut. No need to raise any objections.
Samantha had said that Ashley'd seemingly gunned down another girl since they'd seen her, and asked if they had any idea of what to do if they found her again, if they had a plan to take her down. Did they? Kate thought back to their confrontation. Taryn had made the bread earplugs, right? Kate remembered telling her to take them out.
"Well... T-Taryn made these like, bread earplugs, and, um, those seemed to work okay at shutting her voice out." Kate shook her head. "Although... I, uh, don't know how we're gonna go about getting rid of her..."
Leaving it to someone else seemed like the best course of action, if Kate was being honest. Then they wouldn't have to get hurt again. There had to be someone else out there she'd wronged. Samantha was proof of that. Maybe she'd take Ashley out when they parted ways.
There was a deeper reason for it than that, though. A feeling that sank into Kate's stomach, and made her feel the almost familiar nausea.
Guilt? Maybe.
But guilt for what? She hadn't personally done anything. Taryn had done it. In self-defence, and defending her. No, no beating around the bush. Kate was just as guilty as Taryn was. She was the one that stole the Boy's things after Taryn had shot him. She was the reason Ashley had gotten one over on them, She was the one who'd made the other boy panic, getting Taryn shot.
She'd made such a mess of things, hadn't she?
Kate blinked. Wasn't focused. She slouched down next to Taryn. Samantha had asked what their plans were when they got home. ...Odd question, really. But Kate figured she was trying to keep some semblance of normality going.
New York, for Christmas. That was their plan. They were still going, right? God, it seemed so... corny now she'd thought about it. Did they really want to tell her such a corny story? Kate glanced down at her shoes. "I... I wanna go home. See my parents and, um, my sister again. G-Graduate, y'know. That, um, that kinda stuff. "
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the former handler Macha.
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Carrion Queen
- Posts: 428
- Joined: Tue Aug 14, 2018 6:35 am
"When you take her, put a round in her for me, okay?"
Though she was hungry and tired and just on the verge of tapping out altogether, this brought a slight rise from Taryn. Her eyes opened just a little bit wider and her lips parted a fraction. It took her a moment to process the request.
“We’ve got more bullets than we know what to do with. I think I can spare an extra round.”
She was thankful to rest, thankful to sit for a moment with this girl and talk. This girl seemed levelheaded. She liked that. The world needs levelheaded people to keep everyone else grounded and though she liked to think of herself as one of those people, she couldn’t always be sure, especially here.
“The bread earplugs weren’t one hundred percent effective, but they helped. They made it less sickening to listen to her, though she seemed like a bitch, I imagine even without the power she’s sickening to listen to. Pretty much covering your ears with something or stuffing them with something works to lessen her power. Also, I think she underestimates us. I kind of….purposefully made myself seem….less threatening last time we met.”
She’d lied about her power. Taryn didn’t say that to Samantha because while she had been helpful, she was still essentially a stranger and if she asked about her powers she wanted to have her lie as a back up.
“I didn’t hear the girl who could talk into your mind. We must have been too far away,” she said, eager to jump to a new subject.
Taryn let her body slump to the side and laid her head on Kate’s shoulder. She looked down at her own hands. Samantha asked about their plans. Home seemed so very very far away at the moment.
“I can hardly wait to be at home again,” she said quietly.
She continued to look down at her fingers. The remnants of a sparkly blue polish still clung to her nails, chipped mostly at the tops but there was still a bit of shimmer around the edges near the cuticles. Splashed across some of them were the stiff little bits of dried blood, obscuring the old blue polish. Her sister Kendra had been the one to paint her right hand. It was always easy to put nail polish on your left hand with your right hand, but the other way around was much harder, so the girls always did each other’s right hands.
“I want to see my mom again. She was really sick before she left. I…..I don’t know what I’d do if the worst happened and she…..and I didn’t get a chance to say good bye. I know she knows I love her but I think I’d need to say good bye for…..for me. So I know for sure she knew. I want to see my sisters again. Kendra would never forgive me if I left without saying good bye. She likes to hold grudges. She’s so silly. ”
Taryn was still playing with her fingers. Her cheek was resting against Kate’s sweatshirt. The unique smell of another person was comforting.
“I…I didn’t know you had a sister too,” she said “Sorry I never asked.”
She lifted her wide eyes to Samantha, and stopped fiddling with her hands. “You said you had extra water?” she asked.
Though she was hungry and tired and just on the verge of tapping out altogether, this brought a slight rise from Taryn. Her eyes opened just a little bit wider and her lips parted a fraction. It took her a moment to process the request.
“We’ve got more bullets than we know what to do with. I think I can spare an extra round.”
She was thankful to rest, thankful to sit for a moment with this girl and talk. This girl seemed levelheaded. She liked that. The world needs levelheaded people to keep everyone else grounded and though she liked to think of herself as one of those people, she couldn’t always be sure, especially here.
“The bread earplugs weren’t one hundred percent effective, but they helped. They made it less sickening to listen to her, though she seemed like a bitch, I imagine even without the power she’s sickening to listen to. Pretty much covering your ears with something or stuffing them with something works to lessen her power. Also, I think she underestimates us. I kind of….purposefully made myself seem….less threatening last time we met.”
She’d lied about her power. Taryn didn’t say that to Samantha because while she had been helpful, she was still essentially a stranger and if she asked about her powers she wanted to have her lie as a back up.
“I didn’t hear the girl who could talk into your mind. We must have been too far away,” she said, eager to jump to a new subject.
Taryn let her body slump to the side and laid her head on Kate’s shoulder. She looked down at her own hands. Samantha asked about their plans. Home seemed so very very far away at the moment.
“I can hardly wait to be at home again,” she said quietly.
She continued to look down at her fingers. The remnants of a sparkly blue polish still clung to her nails, chipped mostly at the tops but there was still a bit of shimmer around the edges near the cuticles. Splashed across some of them were the stiff little bits of dried blood, obscuring the old blue polish. Her sister Kendra had been the one to paint her right hand. It was always easy to put nail polish on your left hand with your right hand, but the other way around was much harder, so the girls always did each other’s right hands.
“I want to see my mom again. She was really sick before she left. I…..I don’t know what I’d do if the worst happened and she…..and I didn’t get a chance to say good bye. I know she knows I love her but I think I’d need to say good bye for…..for me. So I know for sure she knew. I want to see my sisters again. Kendra would never forgive me if I left without saying good bye. She likes to hold grudges. She’s so silly. ”
Taryn was still playing with her fingers. Her cheek was resting against Kate’s sweatshirt. The unique smell of another person was comforting.
“I…I didn’t know you had a sister too,” she said “Sorry I never asked.”
She lifted her wide eyes to Samantha, and stopped fiddling with her hands. “You said you had extra water?” she asked.
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MurderWeasel
- Posts: 3511
- Joined: Mon Aug 06, 2018 9:56 am
- Team Affiliation: Jewel's Leviathans
Samantha listened to their responses. Listened, and fought the urge to hang her head so they couldn't see, and then fuck up her face to cover her embarrassment. They'd misinterpreted her. They'd thought she was asking what they'd do after the game was over. They were being so brightly optimistic, so pleasantly cheerful. So naïve.
Because what Samantha had meant to ask was what they would do when it was just the two of them left. When it was Kate and Taryn, standing alone on an open field, looking at each other. When it was down to them and their guns. Did they have a plan yet? Did they have some method predetermined, some trick to pick the survivor? Having heard what they said, she doubted it. She doubted that they had seriously considered their eventual fates. They both seemed pretty set on living. Both had their reasons, and good ones at that. It was enough to make Samantha reexamine her own priorities for a moment. Enough to make her think about her life, her future.
Back at home, there was her family. Mom, Dad, Rachel. Only, thing was, she wasn't so sure she'd be welcomed back with open arms. She'd almost managed to finish high school. Come so close. One more day. One more fucking day. June 22nd, last day of school. Her finals were even done. She had, for all intents and purposes, passed. Then she'd vanished. Completely missed her own graduation by now, certainly. Probably worried everyone sick. Probably had her parents fuming in rage, expecting that she'd eloped with some drugged-up dropout or something. She'd been doing so well, too. Doing so well. The end of high school had been what she had lived for. She had told herself, again and again, that she would be fine once it was over. That she would get a breather. Then she had enrolled in summer programs, to get a head start on college, get some credit and maybe put herself in a better position. She'd already been overwhelmed with preparation, already spent long nights working, getting a head start. The stress hadn't lessened a bit. Now, she'd probably been dropped from those classes for nonattendance. She'd made it right to the end, and then, for all intents and purposes, choked. To all appearances, she'd had a final breakdown and run away. That, or been kidnapped, probably brutalized and murdered.
Was that really so far from the truth, come to think of it?
It all brought her around to one point. Maybe she shouldn't be going back. A murdered daughter left dead and naked in a ditch, never to be identified, that was a tragedy. A failure of a daughter was a disgrace. If she saw her family again, she'd have to make up some excuse. Some reason for her absence. Nothing would satisfy them. They'd fume at her, then throw her out. They'd make her an outcast, just like Rachel. Rachel. She could live with Rachel. Admit to her own defeat, her own failure. Accept responsibility. Accept that she was a worthless fuck up, regardless of the fact that it wasn't her fault. Get a job flipping burgers somewhere, or petsitting or something like that, scrape together money over the next five or six years, and then, just maybe, eke out a Bachelor's in something that could get her a mid-level position somewhere.
It wasn't such a great plan. Sure didn't sound appealing right now.
So, what did Samantha have to live for? What did she have that measured up against a dying mother, a beloved family?
Nothing.
But the fact remained. She did not want to die. She was not going to roll over and die. Never.
She'd kept quiet as the girls talked. Kept quiet, until Taryn asked for water. At that, she opened her bag, pulled out two bottles, each over half full. Who had they belonged to at the start? Otis, Pippi, Cristo, whoever he'd killed, maybe Samantha herself. No way to tell. No reason to care. She rolled them across the ground, one to each girl.
Stay objective. Do not like these people. Be prepared for an ambush, a betrayal, at any moment.
"There," she said. "Oh, and here." She dug two mostly-whole loaves of bread out, as well, tossed them over. It was a big mistake to be so generous with supplies. Not that she needed them. Not even that she needed every advantage possible at this point. It was simply the logical implications of her actions. She'd made it clear that she had at least three bags' worth of stuff. Even putting aside the method of acquisition, it meant that they now knew roughly how many guns she was carrying.
Don't worry. Stay focused.
"Oh, thanks for your information on... Ashlie. She didn't say anything to me. Guess I should be relieved."
Not that she knew exactly what Ashlie's power was. Didn't matter.
She was getting nervous again. Feeling too comfortable. Feeling her barriers melting a little against the unflagging happiness she saw. She would not be sticking with these girls. Before long, they'd go their own ways, and, if they met in the finals, Samantha would have to do her best to view them as strangers. To forget their dreams of home and dying mothers.
Dammit. She really needed to get moving soon.
Because what Samantha had meant to ask was what they would do when it was just the two of them left. When it was Kate and Taryn, standing alone on an open field, looking at each other. When it was down to them and their guns. Did they have a plan yet? Did they have some method predetermined, some trick to pick the survivor? Having heard what they said, she doubted it. She doubted that they had seriously considered their eventual fates. They both seemed pretty set on living. Both had their reasons, and good ones at that. It was enough to make Samantha reexamine her own priorities for a moment. Enough to make her think about her life, her future.
Back at home, there was her family. Mom, Dad, Rachel. Only, thing was, she wasn't so sure she'd be welcomed back with open arms. She'd almost managed to finish high school. Come so close. One more day. One more fucking day. June 22nd, last day of school. Her finals were even done. She had, for all intents and purposes, passed. Then she'd vanished. Completely missed her own graduation by now, certainly. Probably worried everyone sick. Probably had her parents fuming in rage, expecting that she'd eloped with some drugged-up dropout or something. She'd been doing so well, too. Doing so well. The end of high school had been what she had lived for. She had told herself, again and again, that she would be fine once it was over. That she would get a breather. Then she had enrolled in summer programs, to get a head start on college, get some credit and maybe put herself in a better position. She'd already been overwhelmed with preparation, already spent long nights working, getting a head start. The stress hadn't lessened a bit. Now, she'd probably been dropped from those classes for nonattendance. She'd made it right to the end, and then, for all intents and purposes, choked. To all appearances, she'd had a final breakdown and run away. That, or been kidnapped, probably brutalized and murdered.
Was that really so far from the truth, come to think of it?
It all brought her around to one point. Maybe she shouldn't be going back. A murdered daughter left dead and naked in a ditch, never to be identified, that was a tragedy. A failure of a daughter was a disgrace. If she saw her family again, she'd have to make up some excuse. Some reason for her absence. Nothing would satisfy them. They'd fume at her, then throw her out. They'd make her an outcast, just like Rachel. Rachel. She could live with Rachel. Admit to her own defeat, her own failure. Accept responsibility. Accept that she was a worthless fuck up, regardless of the fact that it wasn't her fault. Get a job flipping burgers somewhere, or petsitting or something like that, scrape together money over the next five or six years, and then, just maybe, eke out a Bachelor's in something that could get her a mid-level position somewhere.
It wasn't such a great plan. Sure didn't sound appealing right now.
So, what did Samantha have to live for? What did she have that measured up against a dying mother, a beloved family?
Nothing.
But the fact remained. She did not want to die. She was not going to roll over and die. Never.
She'd kept quiet as the girls talked. Kept quiet, until Taryn asked for water. At that, she opened her bag, pulled out two bottles, each over half full. Who had they belonged to at the start? Otis, Pippi, Cristo, whoever he'd killed, maybe Samantha herself. No way to tell. No reason to care. She rolled them across the ground, one to each girl.
Stay objective. Do not like these people. Be prepared for an ambush, a betrayal, at any moment.
"There," she said. "Oh, and here." She dug two mostly-whole loaves of bread out, as well, tossed them over. It was a big mistake to be so generous with supplies. Not that she needed them. Not even that she needed every advantage possible at this point. It was simply the logical implications of her actions. She'd made it clear that she had at least three bags' worth of stuff. Even putting aside the method of acquisition, it meant that they now knew roughly how many guns she was carrying.
Don't worry. Stay focused.
"Oh, thanks for your information on... Ashlie. She didn't say anything to me. Guess I should be relieved."
Not that she knew exactly what Ashlie's power was. Didn't matter.
She was getting nervous again. Feeling too comfortable. Feeling her barriers melting a little against the unflagging happiness she saw. She would not be sticking with these girls. Before long, they'd go their own ways, and, if they met in the finals, Samantha would have to do her best to view them as strangers. To forget their dreams of home and dying mothers.
Dammit. She really needed to get moving soon.
Taryn apologised for not asking whether Kate had a sister. Kate saw no real reason to apologise, really. She'd never asked if Taryn had a sick mother.
"N-No, it's okay," Kate shook her head. "I'm, um... I'm fine, really."
Kate felt around her neck for the pendant, relieved to find it was still there. Taryn was leaning on her, now, checking what remained of her nail varnish. It was comforting, really. There they were, after all they'd gone through, sat and talking and checking their nails. Kate closed her eyes, almost falling asleep then and there but something pulled her away. Something stopped her from drifting off.
She put a hand to her mouth and yawned, before groggily looking over to Samantha. She had rolled two water bottles at her and Taryn. Kate scrambled forwards to snap them up before Samantha changed her mind. Kate looked at them before stuffing them in her bag. Both had been opened already, and were probably stale, but they were both still fairly full.
“T-Thanks.” Kate nodded, wiping her eyes. They felt red raw, swollen. Samantha tossed two loaves of bread over. Kate quickly threw them into her bag.
Samantha mentioned that Ashley hadn't talked when they had met. She hadn't known her power? That seemed odd.
"Y-Yeah?" Yeah, Kate found that really odd. Ashley had stopped talking? Had something happened to her voice? When they'd met she hadn't really seemed like she had understood what her voice did. Maybe now she knew? Kate went with her voice being burnt out. The screaming probably took its toll on her vocal chords or something. "Oh, It... um, It wasn't pleasant."
Kate couldn't shake the thought of her sister, now Taryn had brought it up. She drifted off, looked down at the small, white gold and crystal pendant draped around her neck. Her sister's, originally. Kate had always looked at it and wished she could have one. Sammy ended up cutting out the middleman and just giving the one she had to her. She’d given it to Kate at her 17th Birthday Party. Small celebration, only family invited. Baby cousins screamed the whole time. Felt like years ago, now. It'd been a lifetime since she’d been back home. Her parents got worried if she was away for two hours, let alone two days. But they weren’t the ones who’d be the worst hit if she never came back. No, they'd find some way to move on. Let go. It'd be hard but they'd do it. For Sammy's sake.
Sammy. She had to be so worried about her. That was the hardest part about thinking about back home, really. Knowing that her sister was out there, worried sick, campaigning to try and find her. Posters, Rewards, Milk Cartons. She'd go the distance. She was that sort of person. Never giving up hope that she could still be alive out there somewhere.
Kate buried her head into her knees and let the tears flow. Soon, she promised herself. Her and Taryn. Soon they'd both go home.
"N-No, it's okay," Kate shook her head. "I'm, um... I'm fine, really."
Kate felt around her neck for the pendant, relieved to find it was still there. Taryn was leaning on her, now, checking what remained of her nail varnish. It was comforting, really. There they were, after all they'd gone through, sat and talking and checking their nails. Kate closed her eyes, almost falling asleep then and there but something pulled her away. Something stopped her from drifting off.
She put a hand to her mouth and yawned, before groggily looking over to Samantha. She had rolled two water bottles at her and Taryn. Kate scrambled forwards to snap them up before Samantha changed her mind. Kate looked at them before stuffing them in her bag. Both had been opened already, and were probably stale, but they were both still fairly full.
“T-Thanks.” Kate nodded, wiping her eyes. They felt red raw, swollen. Samantha tossed two loaves of bread over. Kate quickly threw them into her bag.
Samantha mentioned that Ashley hadn't talked when they had met. She hadn't known her power? That seemed odd.
"Y-Yeah?" Yeah, Kate found that really odd. Ashley had stopped talking? Had something happened to her voice? When they'd met she hadn't really seemed like she had understood what her voice did. Maybe now she knew? Kate went with her voice being burnt out. The screaming probably took its toll on her vocal chords or something. "Oh, It... um, It wasn't pleasant."
Kate couldn't shake the thought of her sister, now Taryn had brought it up. She drifted off, looked down at the small, white gold and crystal pendant draped around her neck. Her sister's, originally. Kate had always looked at it and wished she could have one. Sammy ended up cutting out the middleman and just giving the one she had to her. She’d given it to Kate at her 17th Birthday Party. Small celebration, only family invited. Baby cousins screamed the whole time. Felt like years ago, now. It'd been a lifetime since she’d been back home. Her parents got worried if she was away for two hours, let alone two days. But they weren’t the ones who’d be the worst hit if she never came back. No, they'd find some way to move on. Let go. It'd be hard but they'd do it. For Sammy's sake.
Sammy. She had to be so worried about her. That was the hardest part about thinking about back home, really. Knowing that her sister was out there, worried sick, campaigning to try and find her. Posters, Rewards, Milk Cartons. She'd go the distance. She was that sort of person. Never giving up hope that she could still be alive out there somewhere.
Kate buried her head into her knees and let the tears flow. Soon, she promised herself. Her and Taryn. Soon they'd both go home.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the former handler Macha.
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Carrion Queen
- Posts: 428
- Joined: Tue Aug 14, 2018 6:35 am
Taryn's eyes followed warily as the bottle of water rolled over to her. She picked it up and undid the cap and tried to drink delicately, but the harsh crinkle of the plastic under her thirsty grip let on to how badly she had needed it. Soon the bottle was only a third full. She sighed and licked her lips, then put the bottle in the bag.
Samantha threw over two loaves of bread and Kate stashed them in her bag.
"You're an angel. Thanks so much," she said. "It's no trouble. If you go up against that girl I'd rather see you come out on top."
She didn't think much of the fact that Ashlie had never used her power against Samantha. She was too tired to think that deep.
"What are you going to do?" she asked. She meant it as a mirror to Samantha's question to them, but it came out much broader than she had intended. Still, she didn't feel she had it in her to go back and clarify.
Suddenly she felt a little movement from her side. She looked over and Kate was sobbing into her leggings. Taryn pulled back a bit of Kate's hair and tucked it behind her ear so that her face was partially visible.
"Hey, hey, honey," she whispered. "It's okay. We're almost there." Her head was swimming but she was trying to hide it. She had to fake being together or they would both fall apart. The little lies that she told herself was the glue that kept her together, but only now did it become apparent how much those lies meant. Taryn could feel the tacky, white hold of her tacky, white lies cracking to the breaking point under the island sun.
"Just a little longer."
Taryn bit her lip, she couldn't cry. She wouldn't. With the heel of her palm she smudged away the tears from the closer side of Kate's cheek. The dirt and grime from her face was cleared away, leaving a small patch of unsoiled skin along Kate's cheek bone where Taryn had run her hand.
"Can you manage a smile?" she said with as much of a smile she could muster. Her lips pulled convincingly in a little grin but it never reached up to her eyes.
Samantha threw over two loaves of bread and Kate stashed them in her bag.
"You're an angel. Thanks so much," she said. "It's no trouble. If you go up against that girl I'd rather see you come out on top."
She didn't think much of the fact that Ashlie had never used her power against Samantha. She was too tired to think that deep.
"What are you going to do?" she asked. She meant it as a mirror to Samantha's question to them, but it came out much broader than she had intended. Still, she didn't feel she had it in her to go back and clarify.
Suddenly she felt a little movement from her side. She looked over and Kate was sobbing into her leggings. Taryn pulled back a bit of Kate's hair and tucked it behind her ear so that her face was partially visible.
"Hey, hey, honey," she whispered. "It's okay. We're almost there." Her head was swimming but she was trying to hide it. She had to fake being together or they would both fall apart. The little lies that she told herself was the glue that kept her together, but only now did it become apparent how much those lies meant. Taryn could feel the tacky, white hold of her tacky, white lies cracking to the breaking point under the island sun.
"Just a little longer."
Taryn bit her lip, she couldn't cry. She wouldn't. With the heel of her palm she smudged away the tears from the closer side of Kate's cheek. The dirt and grime from her face was cleared away, leaving a small patch of unsoiled skin along Kate's cheek bone where Taryn had run her hand.
"Can you manage a smile?" she said with as much of a smile she could muster. Her lips pulled convincingly in a little grin but it never reached up to her eyes.
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MurderWeasel
- Posts: 3511
- Joined: Mon Aug 06, 2018 9:56 am
- Team Affiliation: Jewel's Leviathans
So Ashlie talking apparently wasn't pleasant. Lot of good that did Samantha. In fact, she wasn't really getting much out of this interaction at all, not anymore. She'd gotten what she'd come for, a little bit of companionship and some time to pull herself together. She'd gotten some more reasons to stay true to her resolutions. After all, Taryn and Kate, they were decent people, from what little she'd seen of them. Neither one deserved a quick round in the back of the head. And yet, she also wasn't quite sure that it wouldn't be the best option. They were so calm right now, so at ease. It would be the simplest thing in the world to get her pistol and just open up. She had never actually hit her target with a gun, despite repeated attempts, but these girls were stationary and on the ground. How hard could it be?
But she wouldn't.
Taryn thanked her. Told her that she'd rather see Samantha walk away from a fight with Ashlie. The feeling was mutual. Samantha realized that, if she didn't win, she'd rather see someone like Kate or Taryn make it off. Someone who had a reason to go home. Someone who was still good, who hadn't lost themselves entirely. Because, killer or not, Taryn was more human than Ashlie would ever be again. To shoot someone down in cold blood, in the face of danger, was a stupid choice. Ashlie was a stupid girl, reduced to animal instincts and primal drives. She was everything Samantha had kept herself apart from, everything she had worked so hard not to be, not just on this island, but for the past three years of her life.
And Taryn kept talking. This time, she turned the question around, asked Samantha what she was going to do. Fair question. She should've expected it. Maybe she had. Maybe her original question had just been designed to force these girls to return it. If she didn't confront it sooner or later, how the fuck could she hope to know what she was doing? How could she hope to accomplish anything at all?
She was spared the necessity of an immediate answer when Kate buried her face in Taryn's knee. Crying. Samantha was sure of it. Taryn began to comfort her, and Samantha was immediately hit by an awful tangle of emotions. She was proud, proud that she had endured so long alone, so long without anyone to cling to, her only support knocked brutally away from her, but that made her jealous, jealous that Kate hadn't faced those same hardships, hadn't watched the one she cared for bleed to death, hadn't been running on nothing and fighting so hard to survive all on her own, and that, that made her angry, angry that such a weak girl had made it this far, that Taryn was indulging this sort of childish display at a time when, at any second, someone could turn up guns blazing, could mow them all down because they happened to be unprepared, and yet those thoughts made Samantha feel guilty, guilty that she had considered committing that very crime herself, guilty that she had poked and prodded at these girls emotional health, just to see what would happen, guilty that she was begrudging a girl what would almost certainly become one of the last comforts of her life.
That's what it came down to.
Taryn and Kate wouldn't both go home. If Samantha ended up staring down the barrel of her gun at the two, everyone else lying dead around them, the three of them wouldn't go home. Samantha didn't even want to go home. Fuck going home. Fuck Kate. Fuck Taryn. Fuck this whole situation. Fuck dying.
Anger won out, rolled over her. She was aware of every move she made, every second that ticked by. Taryn comforting Kate. Asking for a smile. How sweet. Fuckers. They were going to die.
Samantha picked up her pistol from the ground, by the barrel, trying not to be threatening.
She slipped it into her bag, keeping her movements nice and slow, controlled.
She took a deep breath. Only then did she realize her heart was pounding, her hands sweating. The stress was creeping up on her again, the realizations. Hard choices ahead. Hard choices behind. In the end, what did it all matter? Samantha didn't give a damn about dying well, or some shit like that. That was for people who believed in an afterlife, or cared more about their reputations than their existence. She fit neither of those categories.
Slowly, Samantha rose to her feet. She looked at the girls on the ground. How sweet.
"Taryn," she said. "What I'm going to do is live.
"Maybe I'll see you later. Maybe not. Honestly... I don't know what to hope. But hey, if I can't win, you do your damn best, you hear me? Both of you."
Samantha could feel pressure building up. Could feel tears about to emerge. Dammit. A deep breath. A five count.
And like that, she shut down, closed off. The emotion drained out of her voice, as she said, "I guess I should say goodbye now."
No telling what the future would hold. Next time, maybe there wouldn't be time for words. Next time... but no, she wouldn't murder Taryn and Kate in cold blood, but yes, she'd live, but that meant...
Samantha didn't scream, but only because she turned and walked away. Only because, as soon as she was facing away from them, her concentration was entirely focused on stopping her face from rippling, on stopping herself from breaking down once more.
((Samantha Reynolds continued in Live))
But she wouldn't.
Taryn thanked her. Told her that she'd rather see Samantha walk away from a fight with Ashlie. The feeling was mutual. Samantha realized that, if she didn't win, she'd rather see someone like Kate or Taryn make it off. Someone who had a reason to go home. Someone who was still good, who hadn't lost themselves entirely. Because, killer or not, Taryn was more human than Ashlie would ever be again. To shoot someone down in cold blood, in the face of danger, was a stupid choice. Ashlie was a stupid girl, reduced to animal instincts and primal drives. She was everything Samantha had kept herself apart from, everything she had worked so hard not to be, not just on this island, but for the past three years of her life.
And Taryn kept talking. This time, she turned the question around, asked Samantha what she was going to do. Fair question. She should've expected it. Maybe she had. Maybe her original question had just been designed to force these girls to return it. If she didn't confront it sooner or later, how the fuck could she hope to know what she was doing? How could she hope to accomplish anything at all?
She was spared the necessity of an immediate answer when Kate buried her face in Taryn's knee. Crying. Samantha was sure of it. Taryn began to comfort her, and Samantha was immediately hit by an awful tangle of emotions. She was proud, proud that she had endured so long alone, so long without anyone to cling to, her only support knocked brutally away from her, but that made her jealous, jealous that Kate hadn't faced those same hardships, hadn't watched the one she cared for bleed to death, hadn't been running on nothing and fighting so hard to survive all on her own, and that, that made her angry, angry that such a weak girl had made it this far, that Taryn was indulging this sort of childish display at a time when, at any second, someone could turn up guns blazing, could mow them all down because they happened to be unprepared, and yet those thoughts made Samantha feel guilty, guilty that she had considered committing that very crime herself, guilty that she had poked and prodded at these girls emotional health, just to see what would happen, guilty that she was begrudging a girl what would almost certainly become one of the last comforts of her life.
That's what it came down to.
Taryn and Kate wouldn't both go home. If Samantha ended up staring down the barrel of her gun at the two, everyone else lying dead around them, the three of them wouldn't go home. Samantha didn't even want to go home. Fuck going home. Fuck Kate. Fuck Taryn. Fuck this whole situation. Fuck dying.
Anger won out, rolled over her. She was aware of every move she made, every second that ticked by. Taryn comforting Kate. Asking for a smile. How sweet. Fuckers. They were going to die.
Samantha picked up her pistol from the ground, by the barrel, trying not to be threatening.
She slipped it into her bag, keeping her movements nice and slow, controlled.
She took a deep breath. Only then did she realize her heart was pounding, her hands sweating. The stress was creeping up on her again, the realizations. Hard choices ahead. Hard choices behind. In the end, what did it all matter? Samantha didn't give a damn about dying well, or some shit like that. That was for people who believed in an afterlife, or cared more about their reputations than their existence. She fit neither of those categories.
Slowly, Samantha rose to her feet. She looked at the girls on the ground. How sweet.
"Taryn," she said. "What I'm going to do is live.
"Maybe I'll see you later. Maybe not. Honestly... I don't know what to hope. But hey, if I can't win, you do your damn best, you hear me? Both of you."
Samantha could feel pressure building up. Could feel tears about to emerge. Dammit. A deep breath. A five count.
And like that, she shut down, closed off. The emotion drained out of her voice, as she said, "I guess I should say goodbye now."
No telling what the future would hold. Next time, maybe there wouldn't be time for words. Next time... but no, she wouldn't murder Taryn and Kate in cold blood, but yes, she'd live, but that meant...
Samantha didn't scream, but only because she turned and walked away. Only because, as soon as she was facing away from them, her concentration was entirely focused on stopping her face from rippling, on stopping herself from breaking down once more.
((Samantha Reynolds continued in Live))